


I'm A Stitch Away (From Making It)

by jovialien



Series: MagicVerse [10]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Magicverse, NAG ME!!, bear with me, not yet finished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jovialien/pseuds/jovialien
Summary: The bedroom of Pete Wentz and Gabe Saporta has been called many, many, many things by the other students in their dorm, but now it has become something far more impressive sounding for one coven of tired Witches; Sanctuary...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so if I don't START posting this part I will never FINISH writing it because I've been telling myself I'll get it done for literally a year and have stalled big time. So, I'm hoping a bit of commenting, nagging, and generally poking from you guys will help me out here!

Pete Wentz has woken up in quite a few strange places, and with some strange people, so it isn't completely shocking to have the press of other limbs next to his, or the sound of snoring, or even the smell of other people around him. The room is just about bright enough from the late morning sun through the thin curtains to see, and that's probably for the best, as there is no way he is going to make it out the door and to the bathroom easily due to a few minor obstacles.

The first of which is Gabe, curled up next to him, drooling onto his arm. Not altogether unexpected, but not actually as common as most of their classmates think. Yeah they share a room, and a lot beyond that, but twin beds are not great for two young men to share so they usually have their own bed each, just like everyone else in the dorm. The beds being pushed together, as they are now, is actually much, much rarer.

The second obstacle is one of the very few reasons the beds would be pressed together, and said obstacle is currently snoring loudly into Pete's chest, dark hair covering an almost fragile face whilst one hand presses up against his thigh. Frank is dead to the world, and Pete knows from experience that whilst the chances of getting out of there without waking Frank are good, the odds of actually being able to wriggle free of the dense limbs are very slim.

Still, waking up with Frank in their beds, it's happened before. Totally normal really.

That there is another head next to Frank's, and a body pressed up against his bony back under the blankets, is less expected. That's... Okay, that's new.

Waking up a bit more fully, Pete rolls his head across the pillow and stares at the second dark head in the bed pushed up next to his. The guy is maybe a couple of years older than Pete, but his face is shadowed and tired, stubble forming thickly on his skin and deep circles under his eyes, and it ages him, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which, if even half of what Frank told them last night is true, is pretty accurate.

Gerard, that was it, old fashioned name for an old soul.

One more line is bulging the blankets beyond Gerard, almost falling off the edge of the bed. At a rough guess that must be the younger brother, if the death grip Gerard has on him is anything to go by. Young but who, despite the arm in a sling and deep pain lines around his face, is still really cute in a twink kind of way.

Okay, five guys one bed, that's a new record even for them.

Grumbling snores come from a heap on the floor, a pile of coats and decidedly ripe looking sleeping bags hiding another visitor, the one that had scared the fucking life out of Gabe with some really freaky floating tricks. 

And finally, in the corner next to the door, in their beat up armchair they'd picked up at a yard sale and dragged, pushed, bribed, and carried back into the room, is the guy with the amazing hair who Pete can't help wanting to get tips from. He's not asleep though, even though his eyes are shut, his fingers picking gently at the strings on Pete's beat up electric guitar, the headphones that are permanently plugged into it fighting valiantly to stay in place over The Hair. It demands capitals, The Hair, even if it has seen better days.

Wriggling his way out of the overly warm body pile, clambering over a quietly complaining Gabe, and almost tripping over the pile of bags and rubbish on the floor, Pete finally gets free and staggers his way towards the door. Ray is still lost in the guitar, not noticing him yet, but by the time Pete's grabbed his robe, towel, and wash bag something makes Ray look up and stop guiltily, pulling the headphones off like a naughty kid.

“Sorry, I didn't mean-”

“Hey, no worries,” Pete whispers back, crouching down and surveying the room from Ray's vantage point. “You play much?”

“Not as much as I'd like, and not since we... Well, it's been longer than I'd like, I miss it. Still doesn't excuse helping myself-”

“Yeah, it really does. Listen, showers should be pretty empty this time of day, and I don't know about the rest of them but I'd say if you've sat awake all night, you should get shotgun on clean-up.”

Laughing quietly, Ray nods, handing the guitar back to Pete carefully before taking the offered things. “I think I'd take a broken hydrant or full on electrical storm right now, so an actual hot shower sounds amazing.”

“I said it would be quiet, never said it would be hot.” Gently placing the guitar back into its stand, Pete shrugs. “Listen, don't know how long you guys are sticking around but be good to jam a bit if you like, I don't know about you but sounds like you've all been through some shit lately and could do with a chance to let loose.”

“That... That sounds better than the shower.”

“Nope, that's non-negotiable, you guys, I don't know how to tell you this, but-”

“We stink, I know.” Rising wearily to his feet Ray leans against the door. “You haven't even had to share a bed with Bob yet, he is humming.” The pile of blankets on the floor shifts, a lone hand snaking it's way out like a grumpy turtle to flip Ray off before retreating in again. “Sorry, dude, but you are. Right, where's this promised land of soap and water then?”

“And decent shampoo, I don't skimp on that.”

“Mister Wentz, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

************************************************

By the time Frank starts to regain consciousness (no, a decent bed after that long in the van does not lead to sleep, it leads to a motherfucking coma of bliss) the room smells a lot better, wafts of shampoo and deodorant and even cologne drifting through the air, but even they are not the best smell in there, nope.

It's coffee. 

Honest to God, proper, been introduced to a real roasted coffee bean at some point in its life, caffeine rich goodness from above.

Fighting his way up through the last of the dreamscape, Frank starts making grabby hands before his eyes are even open, despite the chuckles surrounding him. Rolling away from the heat source at his back, Frank flails to the edge of the bed and risks sitting up, his eyes slowly forcing their way open like an ancient plastic doll. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, Frankie, we got our own French press in here, remember? And we're on the second round already, you need to catch up.” Gabe bends down to push a hot mug into his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead before wincing as he straightens up again. “Not to mention, on round, like, three of showers, and you are totally next. I'll even scrub your back if you want.”

“Do it and I'll fucking kill you,” a voice threatens from behind Frank's back.

“Ooo, fiesty,” Gabe mocks, camping it up, “handbags at dawn. Fear not, little Frankie here is all yours, even when you two weren't together yet and nothing but a wet dream of his, he was loyal to you.”

Facepalming, Frank sniggers, holding his mug carefully before reaching back and smacking whatever random lump of Gerard is closest to him. “Behave, no getting jealous now. But if anyone's joining me in the shower it's definitely you Gee, you need a thorough scrub down.”

“Nooooooooooo...”

“Huh, he's the first of you not to get excited about hot water, weird. Your taste in men, Iero, seriously.”

“Tell me about it,” Frank sighs melodramatically before practically inhaling his coffee in three gulps. “Oh, fuck me, that's amazing.”

“Yep, only the finest in coffee – and men – allowed in Casa del Gay.” Holding out his mug, Frank smiles lazily as Gabe refills it. “Unlike you, we have standards.”

“Don't try saying that shit to Mikey, he will literally see right through you.” Drinking more slowly this time, Frank sits back on the bed, propped up against the wall and letting one hand rub slowly over the heap of Gerard. “Seriously though, man, thanks for this, I didn't know where to go-”

“Hey, no, none of that,” Pete pipes up as he comes in through the door, propping two bags of groceries against his chest as he manoeuvres around Bob and Ray to get to the small desk and drop them down. “You come here, of course you come here, you need help you can always, _always_ come here, or to my mansion in L.A. Or penthouse in New York, or whatever trailer park this one ends up at, you can always come to us.”

“It will be a very fancy Trailer Park,” Gabe says with a mock sulk, pouting at Pete before leaning in for a brief kiss. “With asphalt and electricity and everything.”

“Ooo fancy.” Breaking off, Pete digs into the first bag and starts pulling out pastries and goodies and tossing them onto the bed. “Okay, regular guys, help yourself to whatever you like, freako-” Pete picks up the second bag and tosses it at Frank. “We have a range of taste free stuff from the shelves of the local market, as well as a vegan, gluten free, contains no actual food whatsoever type breakfast sandwich wrap... thing from that campus stall you liked last time. What can I say, you are not the only freak around here, so hopefully we can feed you up a bit, you look way too thin shrimp.”

“I'd tell you to fuck off, but you're too right, and I am too excited by this bag to even spare you a second thought.”

Bob and Ray are holding back, just eyeing up the food with a hesitant look. “Um, what do we owe you for the food?” Ray asks at last.

“Seriously? You wound me,” Pete laughs, “don't worry about it, any friend of Frank's yadda yadda, this kid is family, and you don't bill family.”

“Besides, if our moms' heard we'd charged you for food we would never, _ever_ , stop hearing about it.”

Frank nods, his mouth already full of something, a stray piece of salad trying to escape even as he chews it back in like a rabbit. Swallowing hard, he gestures with his wrap and hastily scoops up the tomato that makes an escape bid. “'s true, eat!”

Shaking his head but with a smile, Ray leans up and just stares at the selection for a good few seconds before grabbing the nearest thing, some kind of danish, and retreating back into his corner, like he's afraid someone's going to snatch it back. Bob on the other hand, just floats the giant cinnamon bun across the room, Pete and Gabe both watching it with huge grins.

“Man, that is just... I thought I'd dreamed it or it was a weird trip, but nope, you really are Harry fucking Potter and friends.”

“Uh huh,” Pete agrees, nodding at Gabe, “but without the sexy private school uniforms, more's the pity.”

“Yeah, Frank looks gorgeous in a pleated skirt.”

“Definitely has the legs for it.”

“Fuck you,” Frank snorts, almost spraying food over the bed. “One time!”

“Actually it was twice,” Pete mock whispers, “but he was only 8 the first time so doesn't really count.”

“So hang on,” Ray says through a laugh, “Frank. In a skirt. Please tell me you have pictures?”

“Oh we have better than that, we have video.”

“Gabe, we had a deal!” Frank shouts, jumping up from the bed to try to wrestle Gabe to the ground. “You promised!” 

“He lied,” Pete sing songs back.

Gabe doesn't even look bothered by the teenager hanging off his back, reaching round to pull Frank off him and toss him back onto the bed with a bounce. Gerard pushes him back out the way, protecting Mikey, before rolling over to rest alongside him between the two beds. 

“And he cheated,” Frank pouts, “unfair use of his giant status.”

“Uh huh,” Gerard murmurs sympathetically, a small smile creeping over his face. “Poor baby.”

“Yeah,” Frank whispers back, snuggling closer, “wanna kiss me better?”

“Wanna make me throw up?” Mikey says grumpily from the edge of the bed.

“It lives!” Frank yells, bouncing up again and toppling a bag of dried fruit into the floor. “Mikey, come join the party, we have food!”

“We also, uh...” Pete trails off, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “Look, I don't want to interfere but you said it was dislocated and that sling, whilst trendy as Hell, doesn't exactly look surgeon general approved, so I'm guessing you didn't get it looked at properly.”

The silence in the room is telling, but Gerard finally sits up, running his fingers through his hair. “We did our best but-”

“No, wait, no judgement!” Gabe cuts in quickly, “not our place, but what Pete means is, we know a couple of premed students, and the physio on the football team is pretty happy to help out in return for...” Gabe grins wider. “Never mind, lets just say, we have some friends who might be able to take a look if you need it, just to make sure it's not, y'know, gonna drop off. At the very least we have a better sling than an old sweater, basic first aid kit isn't much but it's good for bandages and shit.”

Gerard nods slowly, glancing at his brother for reassurance as Mikey slowly drags himself upright. “It's... I've done what I can, and I _know_ it's in place, but if you wanna get it looked at...”

Shrugging, Mikey lets his feet drop to the floor, facing away from them all. “It's okay, just stiff. Wouldn't say no to some tylenol though. And did someone say shower?”

“Good ones too,” Bob says gruffly, standing up and coming towards Mikey. “Want me to show y-”

“No!” Mikey almost flinches, pulling himself away from Bob, and Bob steps back, Ray reaching out a hand to press gently against his thigh in support. “I...”

“Want me to?” Ray offers quietly, and Mikey nods, standing up straight. “Come on.”

Bob slides round to join Frank on the bed, Frank draping himself over his back as they watch Mikey and Ray leave.

“Okaaaaay,” Pete whispers quietly, “something we should know about?”

“Nah,” Frank reassures them, “he just needs some time, Bob's the poor bastard who had to actually reset his shoulder. Mikey's a telepath and it was... Rough. For both of them.”

“For all of you,” Gerard mutters, “I should've-”

“Enough,” Bob says gruffly, pulling away and standing up. “It's done, and you're right, he just needs a little space. And some rest.”

“Amen to that,” Frank says, picking at his wrap again and holding it out to Gerard who takes a bite. 

“And to see that video of you in a skirt to cheer him up...”

***************************************************

Mikey is quiet as he showers, Ray just lurking outside in case he needs help, holding his clothes and towel for him and undoing the bottle lids for him. The splashing is random and Ray is pretty sure Mikey isn't going to drown on him. Still, better safe than sorry. 

By the time Mikey is washed and dressed, in slightly cleaner if not actually clean clothes, he is moving less stiffly but still holding his arm against his chest protectively. At Ray's offering, he allows himself to be helped into the thin white fabric of a proper sling, but is careful to avoid too much contact.

“You okay?” Ray asks at last, tucking the ends of the triangle bandage in and checking that there is no danger of the knot coming undone. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“You remember what happened yet?”

Mikey sighs and shakes his head slowly. “No, not really, just flashes...”

“Okay, so you gonna give Bob a break anytime soon?”

“I wasn't that bad,” Mikey says sheepishly.

“You were a grade A bitch, you actually flinched.” Ray smiles. 

“Fuck, I didn't mean to, I... It's all a mess in my head, I know it wasn't him, I know _he_ didn't hurt me- well, he did but he didn't mean to, I just...”

“You were fucked up, we get it, but try to tone it down, okay?” 

“I'm trying, honest, I just need to get it processed, I can't... There's something important I've forgotten, I think- I can't remember!” Mikey says, banging his head against the wall in frustration. Fortunately, Ray may have seen this very typical Way Brother move before, and puts his hand between brickwork and skull with an ease borne of practice.

“Give yourself a chance, and just remember to give Bob one too, mmkay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ray picks up Mikey's towel off the hook and throws it over his head with a grin. 

“After you've fixed your hair, you look like you're auditioning for a nineties boy band.”

“Heaven forbid,” the towel mutters.

********************************************************

“Wow,” Gabe says softly, passing the waste basket around one more time, and admiring the amount of wrappers filling it in such a short time. “You guys were hungry, huh?”

“Starving more like,” Frank mutters, better smelling, better rested and better fed than he has been in ages. “Seriously, we should have come here straight away.”

“'Seriously,' yes, you should,” Pete agrees with a small frown. “You're just in time too, we were about to come try and visit you, and Gabe would've been worried, you know how he is.”

“Visit? How come?”

“Spring break, dumbass, you think Pete and I would waste it on the beach with hot babes and dudes when we could come check out your skinny thighs instead? But, as you came here instead, at least we only have to hide you from the fun police for a couple of nights then you can have free range for a bit, but if anyone asks, you're a Saporta, okay? Hair dude-”

“Ray.”

“Ray, you can be a Wentz, tall one better be a Saporta and the midget brothers, definitely Wentz like genes there,” Gabe adds.

“Wow. Great. Thanks,” Bob adds slowly.

“Soooo,” Pete chimes in, “you all lay low for a couple of days, we can feed you up, and you can recoup, plan-”

“Deep condition and maybe get a haircut-”

“Do some laundry, and for God's sake, call your mother, before she hears it from MY mother and I get strangled through a phone line like a cartoon character.” Pete tussles Frank's hair and sits down beside him. “Mom told me to keep an eye on you, she said Linda wasn't saying anything but she's worried about you-”

“They're in touch? Is mom okay? Have she said anything, where is she-”

“Whoa, dude, chill. From what my mom says, your mom is fine, so bring it down a notch, focus on you, okay? You all turned up here looking like extras from the Walking Dead, and tell us you are, in fact, babysitting one of the living dead, so let's get you all sorted first. Now, what do you need?”

“A miracle?” Gerard says sarcastically, then winces as every pair of eyes focuses on him. “It's me, I'm just grumpy, not Bert.”

“Good to know,” Gabe says slowly, “could we get, like, a badge or something so the non magically endowed-”

“-but otherwise fantastically endowed-” Pete butts in.

“-amongst us can keep up?”

“Wow, you two are like an old married couple or a double act,” Bob grumbles, “I feel like I should pay admission.”

“We try our best,” Pete grins, mega watt wide and almost movie hero style, the image only slightly spoiled by him only coming up to Gabe's shoulder when he stands up, and having to stand on tip toe for a kiss. “But seriously,” he adds, “what can we do other than food, water, bed, and downy soft washing powder?”

“Yeah, I mean, you guys must have a plan, right?”

“Welllllll...” Frank says sheepishly, pushing his hair back from his face, “the plan was to pretty much hide in the van for a week then go home. That was, oh, maybe a few weeks ago now?”

“Right,” Gabe says quietly, “so, that was the old plan.”

“Uh huh,” Pete agrees, “so, new plan time?”

Rolling his eyes, Franks nods, “yep, new plan. New plan time. We have a new plan. It's a plan.”

Gabe and Pete each raise an eyebrow in scary unison as they stare back until Frank shrugs.

“It's fine, we just need to get somewhere safe-”

“Check,” Bob mutters.

“Get up to strength, then exorcise the stalker ex from my lovely boyfriend's skull-”

“Yes please,” Gerard sighs.

“Get laid-”

“Eww,” Mikey says as he shifts on the edge of the bed, fidgeting in his sling.

“And go home. See, good plan!”

Gabe tuts and lets his head roll back to address the ceiling even as Pete laughs. “Frankie, that's not a plan, that's a goal, a dream, that's like me saying my plan is to go into Space, but miss out the whole actually getting some kind of skill, training, not to mention either becoming an actual astronaut or ridiculously rich!”

“We can brainstorm though,” Pete admits, “we're getting good at the whole planning shit, and we don't know anything about magic but we have internet, and a credit card, and time.”

“Well, tomorrow we have time, now we have to get to classes, but you guys can check each others aura and shit, and we can help make Frankie's dream of one day getting laid again happen.”

“Totally. Keys, keys...” Pete pats down his pockets before pulling out a set of keys and sliding one off the ring. “So you guys can come and go, I just... maybe keep it to two's and three's on campus hey, you might stand out otherwise and get mistaken for pledges or some weird ass fraternity.”

“God forbid,” Bob mutters, taking the key and zipping it up into his jacket pocket.

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge etc, and laptop's on the desk, Frankie knows the password-”

“Oh fuck, don't make ME tell them your twisted-”

“And we'll be back in a couple of hours.” Gabe picks up his bag and shuffles over the discarded bags and clothes towards the door. “Just uh, amuse yourselves, and if you do anything exciting in our beds, please, make sure you get it on video!”

“Gabe, fuck off,” Frank laughs, kissing the tip of his middle finger before using it to flip him off.

“Be good, children!” Pete laughs, pushing Gabe out the door. As it closes, silence falls over the room for a long moment before Ray finally speaks. 

“Are they always...”

“Yeah,” Frank admits with a grin, “well, they like to play for an audience, and they love embarrassing me, so, uh they're pretty much gonna be like that as long as we're here.”

“Awesome,” Mikey deadpans, “because eccentric behaviour is exactly what we need right now. Can't wait for Bert to meet them...”

“Fuckit,” Frank shrugs, “they'll cope.”

“Yeah, but will he?”


	2. Chapter 2

Getting a pass for the van hadn't been as tricky as Pete had feared, saving him a favour for future emergencies/dates/pranks as needed. The coming Spring Break meant that demand for the spaces on campus would be lower, and with various people preparing to go on road trips, yet another beat up van wouldn't even look that out of place. Having dropped the pass off then hurrying back to his study group, Pete was unsurprised to find the van outside their halls when he finally escaped, the evening setting in slowly as the seasons finally began to change and the fading sunlight casting long shadows over the grounds.

The sight of a bucket of soapy water by the open rear door, and the sound of swearing were less expected.

Walking round the open door, Pete peers into the van and instantly recoils, covering his nose with his hand. “Jesus Fucking Christ, what did you guys kill in here?” The bang as Ray jumps and hits his head on the roof is enough to make Pete wince, and he waves his free hand sheepishly. “Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”

Shaking his head, Ray clambers over an abandoned scrubbing brush and jumps out the back before grabbing an old rag – or what may once have been someone's clothing, Pete can't really tell with the dirt covering it – and wipes his hands. “Yeah, no worries, I'm just a bit jumpy. It didn't smell this bad the whole time, honest, this isn't just a nose blind thing. Mikey hurled when we reset his shoulder, and there was a bit of blood, and that's on top of a couple of months worth of locker room funk. We cleaned it as best we could on the way here but uh, we missed a few bits. Bob's taken a load of stuff to the laundry room and I'm taking advantage to go for the soap and water treatment.”

“Riiiight.” Peering into the small van, Pete sighs and lowers his hand, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder as he leans in to look closer. “You guys were _living_ in here.”

“Not the whole time, we had motel rooms and stuff at first, it just...” Leaning heavily against the door, Ray sighs. “Yeah, we were living in this.”

“Five of you.” Ray nodded. “Frank Iero, ladies and gents, the universe's biggest fuck up magnet. Y'know, I had high hopes for your town, big hopes, I thought hey, maybe now Frankie can settle down and actually get through High School, graduate, maybe go to college or just get a job but be happy, chill out and actually enjoy himself.” Rolling his eyes, Pete lets out a frustrated growl. “No offence to your mate, but Frank has the worst taste in men.”

“None taken, as long as you don't mind me saying Gee's just the same, if not worse.”

“Agreed.” Looking at the small pile of stuff in the van Pete shrugs. “At least you all know how to travel light.”

“Ah, yeah,” Ray says with a grin and pats Pete on the shoulder, “about that...”

*****************************************

“Pete!” Gabe calls cheerfully from his seat on the windowsill at the back of their room, his long legs hanging down to rest on top of a very full looking rucksack. “Welcome to potions class!”

The smell in their room is definitely better than that in the van, but still, the air is heavy with the scent of too many bodies in too small a space, along with the beginnings of leftover food stink. There is another scent covering over the top of that though, smoky yet somehow clean, drifting through the air in a visible haze. Closing the door behind them, Ray grins and puts the now empty bucket down on top of a box by the door. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Uh huh...” Pete stares around at the boxes and bags barely concealed beneath the beds, stacked up on the windowsill, forming a strange barricade against the wardrobe, and being sat on or used as tables by the merry band currently squatting in his room. It was like first day on campus again. Except that the strange cigar of smoking herbs floating on its own around the room, crystal ball and tarot cards tossed haphazardly on his bed, and notebooks of strange designs being passed between Frank and Gerard, make it more like moving day at Hogwarts.

The latex glove snapped over the smoke alarm though, that is definitely familiar and totally Gabe's more practical kind of magic.

“We're being cleansed,” Gabe says with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I feel purer already.”

“Your pores maybe, this stuff ain't much good for the clap,” Bob says gruffly, his fingers moving slowly as he stares at the floating smudge stick. “Bet if we had a UV light it would still be terrifying in here.”

“You'd better believe it baby,” Gabe pouts, leaving back against the window and making gimme hands at Frank. Without even looking, Frank passes the pack of Tarot cards up, ignoring Ray's slight frown.

“Be careful with those,” Ray warns quickly, picking his way across the room to find a spot on the edge of the bed by Frank. 

“Why, are they cursed or something?”

“No, the band holding them is old and gonna break any day now.” Frank snorts at Gabe's sigh of disappointment even as Pete finally moves close enough to ruffle Frank's hair and plop down on the only available patch of space on the bed. Even then, the pressure of his weight shifts a nearby stack of books, sending one pointy corner into his thigh. 

“Starting to see what you mean,” Pete says to Ray with a small smile, getting one in return.

“Sorry about this, we'll get it back in the van as soon as it's dried a bit more.”

“No, it's fine, just... cosy.” Looking round the room and counting heads Pete frowns a little as he reaches down to help wriggle out of his sneakers. “Where the cute little blond with the RSI gone?”

Frank's hand whips out to slap the back of Pete's head before Gerard can even figure out that he's talking about Mikey. “Gone to sit outside for a few, it's a bit crowded in here.”

“He okay on his own?”

“It's cool, I'm watching over the little urchin,” Gabe calls out, and Pete follows his gaze out the window before spotting a slight form hunched over on a bench just across the parking spaces and stretch of lawn connecting the halls. 

“Huh. He looks kinda pissed.”

“Yeah, he can't find his phone. Which was part of the reason for the van clearout...”

“Ouch. I assume you tried ringing it?” Pete chuckles as he gets the 'duh' look from all directions. “Yeah, okay, no 'find my phone' installed then?” This time the faces go blank, some sort of shared realisation dawning. “Nobody tried that yet?” Rolling his eyes, Pete glances at the laptop buried on the table under a honest to God crystal ball. “Anyone know his password?”

“Nope, I'll give him a call,” Frank says, clambering to his knees to look out the window.

“How, his phone is...” Pete breaks off as Frank gets the strangest look on his face, one he recognises as the concentration look, but which many people would mistake for the side effects of his vegan diet and generally fucked up digestive system. All at once, Mikey turns on the bench and looks straight back up at the window before nodding and standing up, shifting his sling on his shoulder and heading back over to the dorms. “Wow, that's...”

“Freaky?” Gabe supplies helpfully.

“Very freaky. With a side order of bizarro.” Stretching to retrieve the laptop from under the crystal ball and toss it onto the bed, Pete boots it up, ignoring the slight chuckle from Ray. He heard about the password then. “Sooo, how goes the planning, any progress yet?”

“Some,” Frank admits, a small smile playing at his lips. “You'd be surprised what you can find in the yellow pages, even online. There's three or four possible magic shops in the area-”

“Three _or_ four? Which is it?”

“Three,” Bob asserts, “The last one is probably some whackjob who thinks she can read palms, but if we get desperate we can always check it out too.”

“Anyway, there's a few magic shops listed, two of which seem promising to be the real thing rather than just hippies, so we should be able to restock. We may need to bind Bert again soon as we've only got a limited supply of his ribbon from the collective binding.”

“The thing that made trees catch fire, right?” Gabe asks with a worried look.

“Technically, that was the failed exorcism, the binding just fucked over me rather than everyone,” Gerard says, matter of fact, and stills as every eye turns to him. “What, it did, you guys have no idea what a number Bert did on my head during that, so fuck off.”

Frank says nothing, just shuffles closer on the bed even as Gerard rolls his eyes. He still accepts the contact though.

“The binding was fine,” Ray says softly, reassuringly calm as he smiles as Gabe. “No damage, but if we need to redo it we will obviously make sure it's off campus.”

“Our security deposit is very grateful,” Pete says, clicking through to quickly check his emails whilst they wait for Mikey to make it back up. “So, shopping time, that sounds fun.”

“Yeeeah, that's the problem though, the stuff we need, it's not expensive per se, but we usually know the supplier and get trade prices, y'know?” Ray shakes his head. “Retail is gonna be tricky.”

Gabe and Pete exchange a look, eyebrows raising and falling in silent conversation before Gabe nods. “Don't worry about that, I can cover it-”

“Gabe, we can't-” Frank starts, even as Gabe speaks louder over them.

“For a few months. If you don't pay me back before your birthday though, you're not getting a present ever again, capiche?”

“Mmmm,” a slow drawl comes from beside Frank that sends a chill through the room, “a sugar daddy, where have you been all my life baby?” 

Pete is surprised by the sudden change in tone and body language coming from Gerard, his slightly tense and stiff stance collapsing into lazy looseness without warning. It's the way Frank lunges forwards, almost throwing himself off the bed and away from his boyfriend, that makes Pete tense up though, honest to God fear flashing across Frank's face for a split second before being carefully hidden behind a bland smile. 

“So, this is Bert then?” Pete guesses, staring down the body in the bed with him, trying to find some sort of physical difference to tell them apart, some clue. Surely his eyes should go black or some shit like in the movies, or an obviously evil grin and maniacal edge should show, right? If he was a woman, there would definitely be some wardrobe change, more cleavage or lesbian traits, that was usually the mainstream way of showing a bad girl in action.

This though, this was just as though Gerard had taken a chill pill and relaxed. It didn't seem possible that it was a different person.

“For you cutie, I'll be whoever you want me to be. Damn, I can see why Gerard is jealous of you two hotties, getting to Frank before him. Thanks for teaching him that trick with the way he uses his tongue to-”

“Shut up, Bert, don't make me gag you again.” Bob is already there, before Pete really sees him move, one hand over Bert's mouth even as Frank forces himself to creep closer again and push the sleeves of Gerard's hoodie up. Loosening one end of the ribbon around Gerard's right wrist, he unwraps it a few inches before carefully looping it around his other hand, pulling both wrists tight together and tying them securely.

Bert rolls his eyes, before trying to pout at Bob, the effect somewhat muted by the hand over his mouth. Slowly, Bob pulls back and Bert sighs. “I was kidding, for fuck's sake, you guys are getting more boring by the minute. Still,” he adds, bouncing a little, “a bed again, that's a good start. I was getting sick of spending my afterlife in that van.”

“It's your fault we're in the van in the first place, so shut it,” Frank says, pushing the bound wrists away from him and retreating back to sit the other side of Pete.

It's at that moment the door opens and with a cooler waft of air, Mikey returns to the room. It only takes one glance at his brother for his face to fall slightly with a sigh. “Again?”

“Yep,” Frank confirms, grabbing the laptop off of Pete. “Wanna try and find your phone?”

“Yeah, your harem must be worried sick by now,” Bert gloats, “distraught little teeny boppers all tearful and shit, hey, maybe some of them will slash their wrists over missing you and I'll have a new playmate or two-”

The sudden move from Bob, wrapping a length of fabric across Bert's face, is swift and enough to make Pete scrabble off the edge of the bed in surprise, falling to the floor – or at least, onto the stack of assorted laundry bags at the end of the bed – with a thud. The gag is tied across Bert's mouth quickly, silencing him somewhat, although even muffled by the cloth Pete is pretty sure he can pick out some of the more colourful curses in there.

Mikey, cool as a fucking cucumber, just sits on the vacated spot on the bed and takes the laptop, ignoring the scuffle behind him as Bob physically hauls Bert off the bed and sits him in the corner. Grabbing a book off of Pete's shelf – some history text they borrowed to prove a point about homosexuality not being a new thing, fuck you very much – Bob opens it at a random page and props it up in Bert's lap. “There. We're at a college now. Learn something.”

With the glares Bert is throwing around the room, Pete could swear the temperature just dropped, and is oddly on board with the whole bound and gagged bit. Weird, he had thought he would have a problem with it.

“Oh.” Mikey isn't loud, his expression oddly bland and barely reacting, but there is a sense of foreboding in the way he is staring at the screen. That's definitely not the happy look of a guy who has found out his phone is just outside.

“What?” Gabe prompts, dropping down from the windowsill and carefully picking his way over to the bed. “Is it not showing up?”

“It's... The password's been changed.”

“You can reset it though, right?”

“Yes, but someone else has been in my account. Someone... They tracked my phone.” Closing his eyes tight, Mikey shakes his head a little. “They've been _tracking_ my fucking _phone_.”

Pete jumps as Frank, Bob, and Ray all wince in unison, moving as one to try and get closer to Mikey, even as he scuttles away from them.

They aren't speaking, are silent, but that just makes it even creepier as Mikey backs into the headboard and curls up, rocking back and forth slowly, his head banging into the wall with every beat.

Gabe moves slowly, away from the group and towards the door, and Pete finds himself unconsciously doing the same, even as he feels something, like a pressure building in his head, as though a storm is coming in. It's faint, barely even there, but there's something pressing against his head, a whisper in his ears like the wind through the trees.

“It's not your fucking fault!” Frank suddenly yells out loud, breaking the spell, the pressure fading almost as fast as it built. “For goodness sake Mikey, if we all blame ourselves for every little thing we fuck up doing this, we are never going to get anywhere, so just calm down, okay?”

Mikey's eyes lock on Frank's and Pete can see it, can actually see the headache forming behind Frank's eyes, the slight pain lines forming in the delicate skin, a grey tint covering his cheeks like a fucked up blush, but he doesn't move, doesn't even wince. Mikey collapses in on himself as though his strings have been cut, shaking his head and tucking up, his breathing ragged.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, and the others move again, shifting closer to him to all be in contact, all touching skin to skin, hands, wrists, the back of his neck, anywhere they can all comfortably shift.

Pete just watches, transfixed, surprised by the feeling of jealousy that sweeps through him, even as it is quickly followed by a sense of relief, of hope. There's something about it, the way they move as one, a soft murmuring of voices and whispers, and even honest to God humming that is oddly soothing, a unity to them that Pete wishes he was a part of, just for a moment. Watching them, he feels Gabe's hand reach down to brush against his and takes it, fingers intertwining to try and capture even a fraction of the sense of belonging they can see in front of them.

The lone figure bound in the corner of the room is staring too, but nobody notices him.

*****************************************************

A couple more decent meals in his stomach, and soft sheets under his back, not to mention a decent pillow that isn't one of his friends limbs, and it's all too easy for Franks to start to slip into sleep despite the low murmur of conversation around him. Bert is still glaring from a corner of the room, the gag removed but his hands still tied just in case and Bob is lying along that edge of the bed to keep an eye on him. Ray is engaged in a passionate debate with Pete and Gabe on the relative merits of different guitars – and guitarists – and Frank would totally be joining in, if only his eyes could stay open.

The heat of Mikey, pressed along his side, is soothing and the thin light of the setting sun is turning the insides of his eyelids golden red. The sound of his friends voices is comforting and safe, and with a soft exhale Frank surrenders to sleep, just for a little while.

The light changes with his blink, his body relaxing into it, and the room around him shifts to his old bedroom back before the move, his old band posters covering the walls and Gabe and Pete shifting to younger versions seamlessly even as the others stay their normal selves. Sitting up, Frank ignores them as William waves from his old bean bag chair, the cotton cover faded by the sun in places and the seams close to splitting. 

“Hey, was beginning to think you'd abandoned us.”

“Never,” William says softly, “just didn't want to distract you whilst you have so much company, I know it can be difficult to talk to me when there are so many other people around. I thought it may be easier to wait for a more suitable opportunity.”

“Thanks, appreciate it. So,” Frank yawns, leaning back on the bed to sprawl and still see William's face. “How badly we doing?”

“You're fine.” Frank just stares at him. “Okay, so things are still a little...”

“Fucked?”

“I wouldn't put it quite like that, but not good, no.” 

Laughing, Frank nods slowly. “Yeah, not good. Any words of wisdom from beyond? We could do with them.”

“You seem to be handling things just fine, your friends are very nice, good strong stewards to keep you safe. And building up your supplies and strength are both very important, you will need to be as powerful as you can be before trying to exorcise Bert again.” 

“I can...” Frank swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “I can try again? I mean, I, I haven't messed it up too much?”

“It hasn't helped, but no, of course you can still complete a fresh exorcism on him, but you have made it harder for yourself, and more dangerous. For both you and Gerard. The longer he is active the stronger the connection tying him to Gerard – and to the rest of your Coven – is.”

Frank tilts his head to the side as William rises from the bean bag far more elegantly than anyone has ever managed in the entire world history of the bean bag. Stupid spirits.

“What do you mean, Bert doesn't have anything to do with the rest of us?”

“Of course he does,” William says, wandering over to where an adolescent Pete and Gabe are laughing silently together even as Ray shakes his head with a grin. “You are Coven. What affects one...”

“... affects us all. Wait, even Bert? I don't understand, how could he- I mean, he hasn't done anything to us.”

“His effects are less obvious but believe me, your whole Coven will not be right until he has left. He is not supposed to be here.”

“That's for damn sure.”

“No, I mean he's not supposed to _be_ here, his whole energy is wrong, and the damage he is doing will only keep building up. But you must be strong enough too-”

“But if it gets worse the longer we wait, surely I need to act soon-”

“Not TOO soon, you did that last time, and it could have damaged you all, you need your coven around you, you need your own strength, ideally you could use a second, you definitely need the right ingredients for the spell, and you need to practice.”

“Practice. Right, just find some nice easy ghosts to play with for now...”

Frank can't help grinning even as William cuffs him round the back of the head. “Practice the intent, practice your focus, read your damned books, buy your ingredients, and you are in a place of great learning and education, perhaps you could embrace it and actually study for once.”

“That's not fair, I study!”

“Gerard's body is not an academic subject.”

“No, but it is a fun one...”

“Could you at least pretend to be serious for once?”

Sighing, Frank can't help the grin on his face as he shrugs, sinking back into the softness of the bed. “I'm not that good an actor. 'Sides, I think I'm managing pretty good with the whole serious shit thanks very much.”

“I suppose.” William sighs in return, running a hand through his hair. “In fairness, your mother did often tell me I needed to, what was it, 'lighten up' a bit so perhaps I am being a touch too hard on you.” Glancing at the corner of the room that Bert was currently occupying, William frowns. “He has been present for quite a long time today, take care of Gerard when he returns, he will need your strength and your love. The binding still holds?”

“Will do, and yeah, ribbons still nice and dark grey, should have a week or so left on this one then switch it out again, and we're off shopping tomorrow so can do a fresh binding once the supply runs out. We're good.”

“Good, that's... Good.” William still doesn't look convinced but gives himself a visible shake and smiles slightly, a soft kick up of his lips on one side. “And in the meantime, I suppose this is a place of great learning but also entertainment and company, a little relaxation can only aid your recovery, all of you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Frank breathes, his eyes closing again as he melts back into the bed, the dream fading back to the real college room as the ongoing conversations around him start to return.

“Just don't do anything I wouldn't do...”

Snorting in his sleep, Frank laughs, making everyone in the room stare at him for a moment before he slips back into deeper sleep and they carry on around him.

*****************************************************

The dorms are noisier than Frank remembered, although he had come in the middle of the semester rather than the Friday of Spring break, so that could make a difference. A small one.

“What the fuck?!” Gerard – thankfully, Gerard again, although it had taken the entire day for him to shake Bert off this time - squeaks at the almighty crash from overhead that Frank swears shook some dust off the ceiling.

“Hmm?” Pete looks up from his reading, highlighter pen tapping against his lips like a cigarette as he perches on the arm of the armchair like a strange student themed garden gnome. Glancing at the ceiling as another bang echoes around the room he nods to himself. “Oh, them. Suitcases with no wheels, and Neanderthals with no brains, sounds like they're either packing or heading off tonight. They do this every fucking holiday.”

“But on the plus side they are usually quiet during exam week. Except for the sound of them reading aloud as they can't do it in their heads.” Gabe grins and gives Frank a wink from his perch on the floor, a rolled up sleeping bag and couple of cushions making do as support for his folded up long legs whilst he leans against the bed. Ray sits opposite him, a look of concentration on his face as he sits cross legged and stares at the tarot cards he is laying out between them. 

Gerard settles again, stretched out on the bed and enjoying the brief respite from the worlds worst babysitting gig. Frank resumes petting Gerard's hair with one hand, the other picking through Bob's family diaries, recently rescued from the van. Bob, on the other hand, has voluntarily exiled himself to the van for the night, as he “doesn't trust those fucking layabout students not to fuck it up.” Frank's sure it has nothing to do with Mikey still being a little stiff around Bob, nope, not at all. And, well, Bob does probably deserve some alone time with his van. The fact that it puts a little less pressure on the sleeping situation is a bonus.

The fact that Gabe and Pete have both managed to arrange “alternative sleeping accommodation” for the evening also helps, even if it burns a little hot in Frank's stomach. Yeah, okay, so they probably would have spent the night elsewhere anyway, even if he hadn't turned up, but it still feels like chucking them out of their own room for the night.

Still, with him and Gerard in one twin bed, and Ray and Mikey in the other, the night should pass more comfortably than many, many nights they have had jam packed on the floor of the van. With the dorms emptying out tomorrow they should be able to abuse the laundry room at will and not have to sneak their way into the showers in the middle of the day. 

Glancing up from his book at another thud overhead, Frank catches a glimpse of Mikey out the corner of his eyes and stifles a snort of surprise. Mikey's eyes are fixed on the screen of Gabe's tablet, and his glasses reflect the cartoon graphics of a game, but his fingers aren't moving and there's a visible flush on the slash of his face visible to Frank.

There's also a visible, if mostly discretely tucked away, boner in his lap.

Continuing his stroking motions at Gerard's feeble whimper of protest, Frank eases the book down to his lap and pretends to be reading still even as he focuses on Mikey.

_*Mikey Way, you fucking dog, you got wood?! If you've been playing porn and not sharing I'll tell Gee!_ *

The look Mikey throws him is withering but also desperate and Frank can feel the heat of it even as he avoids looking up.

_*Do you have any idea, I mean ANY idea, how many guys in this dorm are either jerking off, thinking about sex, or actually HAVING sex right now? 'Cause I do!*_

Frank can't help the snort this time, quickly turning it into a cough but he can't quite hide the smile on his face.

_*Seriously?*_

_*Fourteen. Only two are getting any, but the other dozen sure aren't letting their brains know that. I'm going to go insane. I'm going to die of blue balls. My dick is gonna fall off, this is how I die, I die of brain death due to blood loss as it's all in my fucking dick.*_

_*Oh come on, it can't be that bad, you cope with High School for fuck's sake, how much worse can it be?*_

Mikey shoots him another glare, not diminished by the shield of his fringe.

_*Bedrooms, Frank, this whole place is BEDrooms. Not classrooms, not homeroom, there's no Mrs Snellworthy to act as buzzkiller, there's just buzz. They're worse than you.*_

_*Can't you find some nice virgin to hone in on, oh, there's this righteous born again Christian dude and his roommate two floors down, bet they'll be nice and quiet.*_

Mikey frowns, concentrating again, before sending Frank an image of a face, an earnest and open one with sandy blonde hair neatly cut to an almost fifties style. _*Yeah, him! He and his buddy will be quiet.*_

With a deep sigh, Mikey gives his head a small shake. _*Frankie, you're an idiot. They're the two who are actually having sex.*_

 

******************************************************

Saturday morning dawns bright and clear over the sleepy – okay, mostly hungover and comatose – dorms, the light rudely intruding into the muffled bedroom and right into Mikey's eyes. The gentle murmur of Ray's thoughts are still brushing against his mind and Mikey pulls away more, trying to break the connection. He's mostly used to it by now, but Ray's dreams are fucked up and don't make any more sense by being shared. 

Sliding out of the bed is easier this time, without Gerard's death grip on him, and his arm is easing a little more, enough that it isn't agony to shift to push up from the bed and stand in the quiet room. It's peaceful, the quietest he's ever heard the dorms, the soft whisper of sleeping minds much easier to block than the shouts – verbal and otherwise – of excited students. 

Like most of the others, Mikey's slept in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his clothes hanging a little looser than they used to but still respectable. It doesn't take too long to find a suitable hoodie abandoned on the floor – Ray's, at a guess, the sleeves too long and body folding up around him, but it allows him to keep his sling inside the fabric without trouble. Shrugging it on takes time, as does toeing on his sneakers, but even with taking time to find his wallet and leave a scribbled note stuck to the door, he is out of the room in under five minutes.

The bathrooms are empty, allowing him to deal with the residual combination of morning wood and remembered sexual energy from the night before without embarrassment. Judging from a few stains around the toilet lid he is not the only one who has had that thought, and with the numerous signs in the showers asking for all “emissions” to be flushed or binned, not rinsed, it's not that surprising. 

The bruising around his shoulder has already faded, just a red ring of residual damage surrounding the area, and he knows he's lucky, that without his friends' swift action and Gerard's help he might be much worse off. At least the glass cuts have gone entirely, just thin red lines on his skin marking where they were. 

Finishing his critical examination of his body in the badly lit mirror, Mikey flicks his hair back from his face and tucks it into a beanie against the cold before heading outside. The air is cold, steaming his breath despite the promise of spring in the rising sun, its rays burning the dew off the lawns as it rises. It's not far to the coffee shop, just a small shed really but the steam rising from the water heater is a smoke signal to all caffeine addicts and despite the early hour there's a couple of people queueing up. From their clothes, it looks like one early morning jogger, and one walk of shamer, his hair sticking up on one side but a satisfied air to him.

Mikey joins the queue, picking up two hot coffees and a couple of blueberry muffins before continuing on across the paths between the dorms, the grass switching from brightly lit green to shadowed frosty white in stripes in the gaps between buildings. The car park is fairly full but almost silent, just a couple of cars starting to load up for those students with a long drive ahead before they can begin their break.

Bob's van doesn't really stand out, just another slightly beat up old vehicle in the lot, but the fog of steam covering the windshield gives away that this one is occupied. Rising up on tip toes, Mikey peeks through the passenger side window and smiles softly as he spots Bob sitting up in a nest of blankets, his phone playing something that is making him laugh. Tapping softly on the window with the coffee cup, Mikey raises an eyebrow in question. Nodding, Bob reaches out a hand and the lock rises with a snap, the door clicking open slowly. Climbing in carefully, Mikey puts his coffee in the mug holder and passes the other one over the back of the seats to Bob.

“Cheers, you're a star. Didn't think anyone else would be up yet. What's with the coffee?”

“It's... It's a peace offering.” Mikey gives a lopsided shrug and fiddles with the lid on his cup. “Sorry I freaked, and have been acting like a dick, I just-”

Bob waves his hand quickly, shaking his head. “I get it, Mikey, really. No need to apologise, you got mugged, you got hurt, then I caused you more pain whilst you were still out of it, shit, that'd mess anyone up, I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Thanks to you guys, still, y'know... Thanks. And sorry.”

Nodding to himself, Bob takes a sip of his coffee and returns his attention to his phone. “Accepted. Now, you wanna come watch cute cat videos or what?”

************************************************

“I told you, didn't I fucking tell you, I told you that rattling under the front seat was nothing to do with my beautiful, perfect, engine, you fucker!” Bob crows triumphantly, bursting through the door to the room and doing an impromptu 'I told you so' dance complete with pelvic thrusts that Mikey can't help but think are inappropriate for this early in the morning. 

Frank is thinking something similar, but doesn't limit himself to it just being wrong for the morning.

“The Gods of Engineering have judged me worthy, and you-” Bob pokes at the stray foot Ray has emerging from the end of the bed decisively. “You, as knowing fuck all about engineering.”

Gerard looks out from the head of the bed he and Frank are sharing, such a withering look on his face that for a second Mikey fears it might actually be Bert. But then there is a twitch, the first stirrings of actual consciousness and nope, it's just Gerard's 'you have awoken me from my slumber and you must face my wrath' face. With a deep breath, Gerard's eyes blink slowly at Bob, then Ray, then back to Mikey. “Translate. Or shut up.”

“I vote for shutting up,” the pile of blankets next to Gerard murmurs, but Bob pays precisely zero attention as he flings a crinkling, slightly greasy, and definitely dusty plastic bag onto the bed on top of Ray with a loud jangling sound.

“Eww, Jesus, sheets dude,” Ray complains, sending the bag onto the floor with one possibly elite goal scoring kick, or just a random flailing of limbs, it's hard to tell what with all the covers. 

“Sorry,” Bob says, with the good grace to look mildly guilty, but only for a second before grabbing the bag and upending it over the end of Ray's bed, sending quarters, three lighters, a guitar pick, a necklace, and about fifteen screwed up receipts dancing over the bright blue linens. “Yours, I believe Señor Toro?”

Unfolding himself from the covers, with much pouting and wriggling, Ray inches his way closer to the meagre treasure looking like a particularly pathetic dragon. A hand emerges from his nest and picks through the pile, putting the guitar pick and two of the lighters to one side, before shaking the third and aiming it straight at the trash can. The receipts follow, with varying success, but no one bothers to grab them, instead just staring at Ray as he fingers the shiny pendant on the necklace.

“Okay, rest's mine, but seriously, even as Madame Toro I never wore this shit,” he says, holding up the copper pendant with a wince. “Fancy.”

“Fine, so, technically that's Tori's, but Toro property nonetheless so your problem, my actual POINT is, don't blame my van for rattling and making comments about not wanting to be blown up when actually you can't keep your shit in one place.”

“Tori? Not her style... No, wait, you're right, she said something...”

It's only as Ray turns the pendant over in his hands that it catches the light, and Mikey can see it clearly, the symbols suddenly familiar but in different hands-

“It's Nonna's!” Gerard's eyes creep open again from where he had sunk back into the pillows, dark and shadowed but sharp with focus.

“What? You sure?” Mikey nods, reaching out to take the pendant from Ray and look at it more closely. 

“It's a protection spell, Nonna made me wear-” Pausing Mikey swallows hard and glances sideways at Gerard. “She made me wear it when you- After the accident, when you were having problems.”

Snorting, Gerard nods and swipes a hand through his hair, the strands reluctant to change path, and then reluctant to fall back to where they should be. “That's one way of putting it. But why...”

“They knew something was up, and wanted to make sure she was okay,” Bob says quietly. “Your mom, Ray, she knew something was coming, I guess this was how they decided to handle it.”

“Nice try,” Frank mumbles, finally emerging from under the covers and holding out his hand for the pendant with a childish insistence to be involved in the conversation at last. “So, they gave this to your baby sister, that's cool. What's it doing in our van, 'cause last I checked, you couldn't fit a chihuahua in there with us, let alone a teenage girl. Not that Mikey wouldn't try-”

The smack round the head is deserved. And Frank knows it, Mikey can positively hear his laughter even as he pouts with a little sibling level of whining.

“Not fair. But still, how did _this_ ” Frank waves the chain, “end up in with Ray's pocket lint?”

“I don't know, she had it so...” Ray shrugs, “she hugged me on the way out that night, I dunno, it fell off and got caught up in my clothes?”

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Bob says, “but that pile of trash looks exactly like the sort of pocket crap you dumped out before doing laundry, not some random flingings in the corner of the van, so my money is on sneaky reverse pick pocketing.”

“Reverse pick pocketing?” Gerard repeats with a yawn. “What, push pocketing?”

“Whatever,” Frank rolls his eyes, “sounds like your sis decided to protect you for a change Ray. Congrats, we're so fucked up we made a little girl want to take on our battles.”

“Watch what you call her,” Bob says, even as Ray makes a sound of warning, “that kid is gonna be a powerful little monster and I'm betting she bears a grudge.”

“Amen,” Ray adds. 

“You wanna?” Frank waves the pendant at Gerard who, mid yawn, just shakes his head and lets Frank toss the pendant back over at Ray. “She chose you, man, you gotta wear the bling.”

“Fantastic.” Ray grumbles, but pulls it on over his spiderman t-shirt regardless. “I feel like I just dropped a point on the Kinsey scale.”

“Welcome to the fabulous end, we have glitter,” Frank calls out, before pulling the covers back over his head.


End file.
